


The ABC’s of Living with Sherlock Holmes or five experiments at 221 B, with one non-experiment that turned out ok

by Sabrina_Phynn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabrina_Phynn/pseuds/Sabrina_Phynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> What Sherlock Holmes does between cases and how it impacts on his flat mate</p>
            </blockquote>





	The ABC’s of Living with Sherlock Holmes or five experiments at 221 B, with one non-experiment that turned out ok

**Author's Note:**

>  thanks to my cheerleader and main moral support [](http://blue-eyed-1987.livejournal.com/profile)[ **blue_eyed_1987**](http://blue-eyed-1987.livejournal.com/)

# Originially written forWinter 2011 Holmestice Fic for solrosan: The ABC’s of Living with Sherlock Holmes

Title: The ABC’s of Living with Sherlock Holmes or five experiments at 221 B, with one non-experiment that turned out ok  
Recipient:   
Author: [](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/profile)[ **sabrinaphynn**](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/)  
Characters/Pairings:Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mrs. Hudson (no pairings)  
Word Count: just over 2000  
Rating:PG  
Warnings:Descriptions of gross experiments, mild swearing  
Summary: What Sherlock Holmes does between cases and how it impacts on his flat mate  
Disclaimer: Not mine; ACD’s original sandbox, BBC’s action figures  
Author's notes: thanks to my cheerleader and main moral support [](http://blue-eyed-1987.livejournal.com/profile)[ **blue_eyed_1987**](http://blue-eyed-1987.livejournal.com/)

 

**The ABC’s of Living with Sherlock Holmes or five experiments at 221 B, with one non-experiment that still turned out ok**

 

**A is for Agar (Monday)**

John trudged up the stairs with the shopping; it had been a rather long day. He turned into the kitchen to put away the milk, butter, and eggs but was surprised to find Sherlock hunched over the stove, stirring a steaming pot. A vaguely familiar smell hung in the air, something John could not quite place.

“Are you- cooking? ” John sounded slightly incredulous.  He scowled slightly at the congealed substance and gave it a slight stir with the wooden spoon, still not quite sure exactly at what he was looking.

“ Obviously. “

“ Mind telling me exactly what that is?  In the pot I usually use for risotto?”

  


“Agar.  Blood agar, to be exact… “

  


Ah, yes.  That would be the smell.  Not the most pleasant, but it reminded John of his uni days when he’d worked as a teaching assistant.

  


“And the use of the microbiology supplies at St. Bart’s labs is not acceptable because…”  


“Ah. It’s my  er- special blend.”

  


“Special… oh…” John closed his eyes.  “Please.  Human Blood?”

  


Sherlock grinned slightly at John.

“But- how would you manage to get it? No- I really neither need nor want to know.”

  


“Why not? It makes sense to use human blood to research human pathogens; you will get a more accurate result.  Besides, Molly was more than willing to assist.”

  


John tried his very best not to roll his eyes as he finished putting the eggs and milk to his side of the refrigerator.  He turned and covered a yawn as he went back into the sitting room and shrugged his jacket back on.

  


“ Right then, I’m off. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  


“ Back?    Where are you going now, you just got in! “

  


“Yes, and there is no way I am _ever_ using that pot again.  D’ya mind marking the handle somehow for me? ”

  


Sherlock threw a slight puzzled glance at the retreating form of his still relatively new flat mate, and then he finished up his task, pouring the congealed mixtures into the Petri dishes on the table and washing out the pan in the sink.    
Once he was done he seemed to pause and consider the exchange he’d had with John.   He pursed his lips and took out from a drawer a roll of gaffer’s tape.  He wrapped the pot handle in a striped pattern.  It seemed a small and relatively reasonable accommodation, after all.  


  
**B is for Bones (Tuesday)**   


Mrs. Hudson trilled up from the bottom of the stairs, “Sherlock, there’s a large package for you.  I’m just on my way out…”

  


Sherlock’s voice was clear even through the closed door. “ Be right down for it, been waiting. “  The tone was slightly worrying in the amount of latent boredom contained in the few words.

  


“No shenanigans, young man!  I know how you get…” She was much sterner in her delivery this time.

  


Sherlock’s mop of curls suddenly appeared around the door to the flat, a crooked grin creased across his face.  “I know you do.  I will behave, promise, especially now that my parcel has arrived.”

  


“Cheeky…” Mrs. Hudson murmured under her breath, and firmly closed the front door.

  


By the time John had returned from his weekly PT session for his shoulder (mostly a guided work out at this point), Sherlock, though not out of his pyjamas and dressing gown, was deeply engrossed in his task.  There were piles of bones on, under and beside the coffee table and he was sitting cross-legged on the rug, muttering something about the distal aspect of the patella being off slightly.  John cleared his throat to announce his presence.

  


“Skull feeling lonely? ”

  


Sherlock looked up and blinked owlishly for a moment, then quirked a small grin.  

  


“Thought a full skeleton would be a good idea, for … reference.”

  


“Mmm.  Well, I suppose.  Most people would prefer a jigsaw puzzle, but this seems to suit you.  Would you mind shifting Sir Bones’ construction over to the desk, though?  You’re blocking the telly and that repeat of Top Gear is on.”

  


“Certainly.  The light is better over by the window, anyway.”

**C is for Chemistry (Wednesday)**  


  


Wednesday was John’s scheduled day at the clinic, so he padded down to the kitchen as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb Sherlock should he be sleeping.  He need not have bothered as he saw when he got there to plug in the kettle for tea.   There was a sticky note on a complex set up of flasks, tubes and a Bunsen burner stating “DO NOT TOUCH, Be back later, off to get supplies- SH” Along with one of Sherlock’s stained notepads with a complex chemical equation and multiple cross-outs and scribbling on it.  John chuckled a bit and continued on making his tea.

  


It was not a terribly busy day at the clinic, but steady enough that John was more than ready for lunch when he sat down.  He checked his email while chewing on his sarnie and found a quick note from Murray inviting him to dinner that night to meet his wife.  John had not even had a chance to push “reply” when the tone for a new text message chimed.  


_Would take up offer to eat away from 221B, fire brigade at flat now- SH_

  


John put his head down and put his thumb on his temple, rubbing his forehead absently.

He pushed ‘reply’ and typed back slowly:

  


_Is it a fire or just chemical fumes? Stop using my laptop! - JW_  


  


  _Fumes only.  Smoke thick, smell worse- Mrs. Hudson panicked.  Not using computer; it kept whistling; annoying, now fixed. – SH_  


  


  _Fine.  See you later. JW_    


It took the rest of his lunch to type back polite acceptance e-mail to Murray for dinner.

  


When John returned later that night, there was only the faintest trace of charcoal and ammonia in the air.  He was happy to find that he had remembered to close his bedroom door that morning.  


  
**D is for Decomposition (Thursday)**   


John slept in the next morning and when he woke, he found another sticky note, this time on the kettle.  


‘Gone to Bart’s to see Molly about a leg.  Back soon- SH'

  


As John was straightening up a bit after breakfast, he saw a few new files marked ‘NSY’ on the coffee table.  He did not bother moving them.  Cold cases, sent over as a stopgap measure by Lestrade, he supposed.  Good of him to do, really- of course, it was also better for the closed-case statistics, too, John thought wryly.  It was a warm enough day, John mused, and perhaps a walk might be in order.  He really was not up for watching Connie Price with Mrs. Hudson today.

  


John returned to find his flat mate calmly using a hacksaw at the table in the kitchen to divide the lower half of a human leg in a vice into three segments.  He was glad he had skipped lunch, as the smell was a bit much on top of the smell of ammonia, which was still strongest in the kitchen.

  


“Case?”

  


There was the merest flash of grey- blue eyes as Sherlock looked up.

  


“Mmm-hmm.  Old one.  Generally interesting as well for comparative rate of decay.”

  


“Comparative?”

  


“Relative to temperature.”

  


“Ah… and where are these… pieces… going, exactly? “

  


Sherlock looked up again, slightly dazed, and then scowled slightly. “ I was thinking the freezer, the salad bin, and that counter over there.  Problem? If it’s an issue…”

  


John held up his hands slowly in a gesture of surrender.

  


“It’s fine really, just- label it and if you can, wrap it up some?”

  


“Wrap it?”

  


“ Yes well… I don’t want to mistake it for something else… like lamb chops… Sherlock?”

  


Sherlock did not appear to have heard him, lost in thought, murmuring.

  


“Hmm… plastic wrapping.  That would reduce the amount of oxygen exposure, and impact on the rate of decay, wouldn’t it…” Sherlock shook his head a bit and came back to himself.  “That is most… insightful, John.  It may well impact on this after all. “

  


As Sherlock returned to his gruesome task, John shrugged and considered calling Lestrade to see if he was up for a pint at the local pub tonight.   It would be a rather quiet night otherwise and the kitchen looked to be unusable for now.   Maybe there would even be a rugby match to watch.  


When John stumbled in early that morning, Sherlock was dozing on the couch but the kitchen table was scrubbed and the parts were wrapped and labelled as requested.  And the flat merely smelled of disinfectant.  He grinned slowly and made his way up to his room.  


  
**E is for Eggs (Friday)**   


John, thanks in part to the pints the night before, woke slowly.  He was not so much hung-over as pleasantly blurred in his transition from sleep to wakefulness, but he was hungry.  A proper fry-up would do nicely today, he thought, as he sat up and scratched his head, pulling on his dressing gown over his pyjamas.

  


After filling and plugging in the kettle, John checked for what he’d need. Tea- check.  Bread- check. Tomatoes- check.  Milk, butter- just there.  But where were the eggs?  He distinctly recalled buying them and putting them away.   He was just about to start shouting when his thoughts were interrupted by the familiar rumble of Sherlock.

  


“What, no tea for me?  Did you enjoy the pub, John? “

  


“ Sherlock, I thought you were…  out. “ 

  


John tried not to show how startled he was at the sudden appearance of his flat mate and his sudden rage at what the most probable cause of the lack of eggs could be.

  


“Where. Have. All. The. Eggs. Gone.” John spoke as quietly as he could manage.

  


“Oh. We seemed to have quite a few, so I used them.”

  


“You used _all_ of them?”

  


“Well, I put a few in the freezer, used a few for splatter patterns out back, and then I saw a most interesting article about using acid to dissolve the shells… so I- yes, I must have used all of them. ”

  


John closed his eyes, counted to ten and tried his best to stay calm.  The kettle clicked off; he took a deep breath and opened his eyes, took out another mug and focused on making two mugs of tea as a means of remaining as calm as possible.

  


“Do try and remember to write it down next time you use the last of something, will you?”

  


He returned the bread, butter, and tomato to their usual spots and calmly stated,  “I am going to Speedy’s for a proper breakfast.  You could join me if you like.“

  


It was a remarkably quiet meal, but John was glad to see some food actually pass Sherlock’s mouth for a change.  


**F is for Friend (Saturday)**

Sherlock, in fact, was very quiet over the next thirty-six hours.  It was only when John noted him staring that he said anything about it, though.

  


“Out with it, Sherlock, what is going on in that brain of yours?”

  


(No reply)

  


“Not talking today, eh?  Well, that is a bit of a change.  Can’t say you didn’t warn me though…”

  


(Still no reply)

  


“Well, that is fine.  Don’t think I don’t know what you are up to, though.  This has been quite the week, hasn’t it… all these experiments.   You could have just said something. But no, you have to try and drive me mad slowly, don’t you…”

  


At the change in tone, Sherlock sat up and looked like he was about to speak, but John was running on a full head of steam by now and not exactly paying strict attention.  


“That is part of the experiment, isn’t it, to see how much I will and can put up with before I decide to leave, eh?  Well, sorry to disappoint you but I’m made of tougher stuff than that- “

“John.”  


I should have realised something was amiss when the experiments were in bloody alphabetical ORDER for Christssakes…”

  


“John.  What?”

  


As John was shouting and getting properly swear-y, he stopped when he heard something he was not expecting.  Sherlock was laughing, helplessly gasping and positively snorting with laughter.  It was so incongruous he could not help but stop and gape.

  


“Just what is so funny, might I ask?”

  


Sherlock held up his hand and wiped his eyes, biting his lip to regain control over his laughter.  He then put his hand on Johns shoulder, looked him straight in the eyes, and then said quietly. “I had no idea.  I never thought about how it might seem to you.”

  


“You didn’t know?  How could you not know? Agar, bones, chemistry gone wrong, decomposition and eggs?”

  


This time Sherlock looked a tad sheepish. “I didn’t think about it, honestly.  As you may have guessed, I am not used to having others around all the time… I was not trying to experiment on you, not at all.  And I did not realize that I had put my efforts to keep away boredom into alphabetical order.    Though it does sound like something I might do, it was not intentional at all. ”

  


John sat down, stunned into considering what Sherlock had said.  Then he could not help it and started in laughing too, quickly joined by Sherlock.

  


“You would put your things in order, wouldn’t you, even unconsciously…”

  


“Oh, shut it, will you?”

  


“Hungry?”

  


“Yes, actually, despite eating yesterday.”

  


“ Angelo’s?”

  


“Why not.”

  


~Fin~

Title: The ABC’s of Living with Sherlock Holmes or five experiments at 221 B, with one non-experiment that turned out ok  
Recipient:   
Author: [](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/profile)[ **sabrinaphynn**](http://sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com/)  
Characters/Pairings:Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mrs. Hudson (no pairings)  
Word Count: just over 2000  
Rating:PG  
Warnings:Descriptions of gross experiments, mild swearing  
Summary: What Sherlock Holmes does between cases and how it impacts on his flat mate  
Disclaimer: Not mine; ACD’s original sandbox, BBC’s action figures  
Author's notes: thanks to my cheerleader and main moral support [](http://blue-eyed-1987.livejournal.com/profile)[ **blue_eyed_1987**](http://blue-eyed-1987.livejournal.com/)

 

  
**The ABC’s of Living with Sherlock Holmes or five experiments at 221 B, with one non-experiment that still turned out ok**   


 

**A is for Agar (Monday)**

John trudged up the stairs with the shopping; it had been a rather long day. He turned into the kitchen to put away the milk, butter, and eggs but was surprised to find Sherlock hunched over the stove, stirring a steaming pot. A vaguely familiar smell hung in the air, something John could not quite place.

“Are you- cooking? ” John sounded slightly incredulous.  He scowled slightly at the congealed substance and gave it a slight stir with the wooden spoon, still not quite sure exactly at what he was looking.

“ Obviously. “


End file.
